


on the other side

by pasdexcuses



Series: Rules [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom/sub, Emotion Play, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Silence Kink, Situational Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasdexcuses/pseuds/pasdexcuses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shiver runs down his spine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the other side

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

“Are you cold Mr Potter?” Angelique asks in her heavy French accent. Her face is inches away from Harry’s, and he can tell she’s trying very hard not to smirk. 

His cheeks have been burning for the better of an hour, and it doesn’t seem possible for his face to grow even redder. And yet, as Angelique wraps the measuring tape around his chest, he’s light-headed with a brand new rush of blood. His palms are sweaty and his nipples are hard, and he’s never this embarrassed in his entire life. He can’t bear looking at her as the tape goes over his front chest. 

He has his eyes firmly closed when she asks, “Mr Malfoy, would you mind helping me with the tape at his back?”

“Of course.”

Then Draco’s hands are on his back, his palms splaying over Harry’s white shirt. The touch is purposeful, long fingers digging a little too hard into his back. 

A shiver runs down his spine.

“Keep your back straight,” Draco orders softly. 

Harry does as he’s told, though he keeps his eyes trained on a wall. 

“Now, for the waist,” Angelique says, hooking her fingers inside his trousers. 

It startles him, makes him flinch and open his mouth to protest against the intrusion. But Draco raises a single eyebrow at him, and he remembers the rules. 

“These trousers are just too loose,” she says, yanking on the waist, “look at this, terrible!”

“I’ve always told him he should wear a tighter fit,” Draco concedes. 

“This won’t do at all,” Angelique continues, wrapping the tape around Harry again. She crouches right in front of his crotch, tightening the tape around his waist. She says, “What do you think, Mr Malfoy, about here for the waist?”

And then, to Harry’s utter humiliation, Draco bends forward to examine her tape. It’s not the first time Angelique has ignored Harry and asked Draco instead. She caught on pretty quickly after Harry remained silent, and Draco made all decisions for him. 

It isn’t the first time he’s being flat out ignored but it still takes all of Harry’s self-control not to jump away from their prying eyes. His heart rings in his ears, he can barely make out what they are saying and beneath all the shame and agitation there is this feeling that he can’t quite place. It’s been boiling in the pit of his stomach since they entered the shop, and now the feeling is turning to steam that makes his skin too hot. 

The next couple of minutes are blur of misheard words and pointed stares. He closes his eyes to pretend he’s not there but he can tell the exact moment he’s left alone with Draco because he feels hot breath in his ear, a pair hands firm on his hips. 

“Aren’t you embarrassed, Harry?” Draco asks, his hand drifting downwards. His fingers ghost over the bulge in Harry’s trousers. “You haven’t been very subtle today.”

The fingers are barely touching him but it’s as though them being alone was all his body was waiting for to get hard. He shivers with the thought of today, he shivers at the thought of Angelique just a few feet away. There isn’t even a door between them, just a red velvet curtain separating them from the rest of the shop. 

Draco is a solid presence against Harry’s back when he cups him too hard and whispers, “Tell me something, is this,” his grip tightens, “for her.”

He can’t help it, he moans under his breath. 

“Or,” Draco continues, “is this because she knows, beyond the shadow of a doubt, just how much _you_ belong to _me_.”

The words shoot straight to Harry’s balls, and he feels harder than he’s ever been as he gasps, “Fuck me,” because that is exactly what has been boiling inside of him. A contradicting mix of shame and pride at letting someone else realise that this is who they are. It’s humiliating and freeing, all at once. It shouldn’t make sense, and Harry’s breathless because it almost doesn’t. 

But then Draco is letting go of his waist to make him turn around in his arms. For the briefest moment, it’s just the two of them. Nothing else exists, and what shouldn’t make sense is suddenly stark clear in Harry’s head. Because Draco’ stare is a question waiting for his answer. 

And it’s so easy, so very easy, to let go once he realises this is just about them and no one else. 

“Fuck me,” he says again.

Grabbing him by the waist, Draco pushes him up against a wall, hips rocking against Harry’s. They kiss hard and fast, messy and wet until Draco breaks them apart. 

“I’m fairly certain that does not answer my question. Though it does make me wonder,” he says, in a tone that he’s never used outside their bedroom walls. “How far would you let me go, hmm?” He slips a hand inside Harry’s trousers, where everything is hot and sticky already. “Would you beg for me? Would you moan a little louder for me?” His thumb circles the head of Harry’s cock, making him tremble and gasp for air. Then, so close his teeth scratch the skin on Harry’s ear, “Would you let everyone single person in this shop know you belong to me?”

He feels like a string so taut it’s about to snap. Like he could give into anything, and it’s all he can do to nod. “I–fuck, Draco, _yes_.”

“Bloody hell,” Draco says, “you’re so good for me. You’re—”

“Merlin, fuck me,” Harry interrupts, begging for it, “please.”

Draco’s hands are still all over him, teasing as he kisses the back of Harry’s neck. It’s torture, and Harry can’t even spare a thought for Angelique right on the other side of the curtain. 

And then it stops all at once. He shivers like he’s been dropped in a frozen lake, feels the acute emptiness of the fall. 

“Not here,” Draco explains, “and remember the rules.”

He wants to rebel, wants to rise in mutiny for a second or two before remembering his own place. 

“Breathe, take as long as you need to make yourself decent,” Draco orders. “I’ll wait for you on the other side.”


End file.
